The Fragile Little Flower
by woolysox123
Summary: Latvia is so scared of Russia that it makes him tremble. One mistake, and murder could be done. He's like a wild animal, unpredictable and violent; if Russia's anger is bad, his kindness is worse. One-shot for Latvia and Russia.


"O-Oh god..."

Latvia stared down at the shattered shards of polished china, cursing his inability to hold anything fragile. He didn't know how it had happened - one moment, he was standing in front of the kitchen cabinet and rubbing it free of dust, and the next it was lying broken on the floor. "O-Oh god, Russia's going to k-kill me..."

He lowered himself onto his knees in the hope that he may be able to clean up the floor before anyone found out what he'd done. However, when he reached out to pick up some of the broken pieces, he found that his hands were shaking too hard to lift anything, let alone fine china.

"Come on Raivis, come on, it's just a cup," he whispered to himself over and over. "You can lift it... come on..."

Taking in a deep breath, he managed to steady himself enough to scoop up the remains of the handle.

"Argh!"  
A sudden pain shot up through his palm. When he flipped it over to examine it, he found that a piece of china had broken the skin and it was bleeding. He stared for a moment, horrified, as the blood trickled through the bleached wrinkles of his hand and then between his fingers, before panicking suddenly and dropping everything back to the floor again.

"Oh god, oh god, I'm bleeding, I'm bleeding. There'll be blood on the floor. Oh god, what do I _do..._ "

Heavy footsteps pounded against the oak floor on the other side of the closed door. Raivis' heart beat so fast he felt like it was about to fly right out of his chest. He slipped his hand inside his coat and began to gather up the pieces with his other hand, thinking that maybe, just maybe, if he hurried and prayed and _just stopped shaking,_ the footsteps would move on, and he wouldn't have to bare staring into those cold, lifeless eyes as Russia grabbed him by the forehead and...

 _Boom._ The door slammed against the wall, chipping some of the wallpaper away. Latvia didn't need to turn around to know who it was - he could tell from the winter cold that immediately swamped him, and by how the floorboards creaked under the monster's immense weight.

"Ah," it sighed, and Latvia squeezed his eyes shut. "I thought that we promised that we would not break any more china, Latvia, dear?"

Latvia swallowed and stood up, and he was suddenly very aware of how small he must look. "Y-Yes, Mr. Russia, I know. I-I didn't do it on purpose, really." He spoke too much. Oh god, why did he speak so much? He couldn't help it; when he became frightened, or felt trapped, his tongue just slipped free and took a mind of its own. Was it a self-defense mechanism? Habit? He didn't know, and that scared him.

Russia suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder without warning, and Latvia almost collapsed right there and then as his legs turned to jelly. He was too close. Oh Christ, if he got any closer, Latvia thought that he might just faint.

The hand moved down to Latvia's chest and then into his jacket. Latvia jumped and squeaked, trying desperately to wriggle away. What the hell was he trying to do? It better not be _that,_ anything but _that_ -

His bloody hand was pulled out into the open air.

"That does not look good, does it, little Latvia?" Russia crooned, raising it up to his face. There was a sharp pain in Latvia's palm, but then, as suddenly as it began, it was gone. He looked up, only to see Russia coolly regarding a thin piece of china. "You must be more careful with your cleaning, yes?"

Latvia flinched, waiting for his master to hit him, spit on him, lift him up by his ears. His head was beginning to feel woozy and light. He was so scared, so certain he was going to faint. Oh god, what would happen if he did? Russia would never forgive him. He'd never forgive himself. How pathetic. How weak.

But Russia did none of these things. Instead, he took his great sleeve (almost as wide as Latvia was himself) and wiped the boy's palm on it; a smear of blood stained the beige fabric, and Latvia flinched as he noticed quite how much of it there was.

He then looked down, and saw that now the excess was gone, he could find the source wound almost instantly - a deep puncture just above his heart line, cut clean through the skin. Torys would panic when he saw it, to be sure, and Latvia wouldn't be allowed to use his hands for days, and he would get behind on his work, and then he'd be in trouble, and he'd be beaten, and...

A shudder ran through him so powerfully he almost vomited, but through sheer force of will alone managed to keep it down. He suddenly felt uncommonly vulnerable. Here was Russia, his master, his jailer, his torturer, holding his hand in his own. One squeeze and he could break the bones inside like glass. One twist and he would have to suffer through the agony of each one of his tendons ripping apart, bit by bit. A whimper escaped him, and he trembled like a leaf. Russia's grip became tighter at once.

"You trust me, do you not, little one?" he asked, and by the tone in his voice Latvia guessed that it would be most unwise to say no. "And I wish to trust you, because we are very dear friends, yes?"

Latvia opened his mouth to speak, but Russia interupted him. "So no more of the breaking my things, understand? Or there will be... consequences. Friends have to do things that may hurt them sometimes, to help others. Do not make me do anything I would regret, yes?"

He smiled at him, so sickly sweet and motherly that it almost made Latvia sick. Russia's eyes darted over his charge's tiny body for a split second, taking in the skinny, brittle form, as if he could tell just how easy it would be to make the boy break. But then, he looked away, and began to head out of the room.

"So long, little one," he called as he pulled the door to. "Do not hurt your sweet little hand again, yes?"

His heavy footsteps retreated down the corridor, and the creaking of the floorboards sounded like a scream.

Latvia sat down and sobbed.


End file.
